The Fifth House
by jgf1123
Summary: The war is over, and the wizarding world must cope with the fractures that remain.  But the next generation of Hogwarts can't let that get in the way of what's really important: quidditch, dating, friends, and enemies.
1. Chapter 1

The world of Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and I can't even get a mortgage.

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><p>AN: I wrote about 16k words when I realized this story needs a major rewrite. Large swathes of the following will not appear in the reworked version. But rather than delete it, I thought I'd post it and solicit comments. Thanks for reading.<p>

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><p>1 September 2013<p>

A young man, thirteen years of age, though he appeared older due to his height, pushed his luggage cart up to jogging speed and shut his eyes just before he hit the stone barrier. Immediately, he was greeted by the chaos and bustle of Platform 9 3/4. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express idled in a cloud of its own steam, building up pressure until the time it would be called upon to bring several hundred tons of students, luggage, and carriages to life. Families gave goodbye hugs and slipped spending money into little hands. Children manhandled bags to demonstrate their responsibility, and an enchanted trunk muscled its way through the crowd behind his owner. Merchants hawked their wares like there was no tomorrow, for the platform would be no where this busy until the beginning of Christmas holidays.

Lucas Sanstead turned as his mother step through the wrought iron archway behind him, blinking in astonishment even though the sights and sounds were not new to her. Isabelle Sanstead had first set foot on Platform 9 3/4 almost exactly seven years ago, he knew, because it had been his first time as well. His sister, Sophie, had started Hogswarts then, and their mother had insisted on seeing her eldest off. Lucas recalled how she hung back and clung to Father's arm as he guided Isabelle through the barrier while an eager Sophie ran ahead.

Despite almost twenty years marriage to a wizard, Isabelle Sanstead still found the magical world a little odd and intimidating. Here, in the multicolored throng of wizards and witches, she looked out of place standing there in her Muggle clothes and clutching her Muggle handbag for support.

Mother and son shared the same dark chestnut hair, but the family remarked he was growing up to match his father's imposing stature and build. The elder Sanstead was once the model of Gryffindor courage and pride, and Lucas hadn't fallen far from the tree.

"It's almost time, you should board. I'll see you off."

"Thanks for coming, Mum. I'll be fine. You can go if you need to," he said, trying to save her some discomfort.

"Your father wanted to come, but..." _So I'm here for both of us_, went unsaid.

"I know. Give him my love." Parent and child shared a parting embrace, though the mother's arms held on just a little longer. With Lucas at school, there would be no children in the house for several months. Finally, she let go. As the chaos of the platform reached a peak with the imminent departure, she quietly stood, an island in the magical bustle, watching him store his trunk then wave goodbye from a carriage door, and kept on watching until the train disappeared around the bend.

Isabelle released the breath she didn't know she had been holding, and it came out a sigh. Parents were already apparating away with sudden pops, so the platform was filled with what sounded like sporadic, backwards applause. She dodged eye-contact with the vendors as she made her way on foot back to the gate. At least she didn't have to worry about walking into a wall going back out.

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><p>Pulling back from the open window, Lucas set about touring the train, systematically peered into compartment windows, looking for his best friend Evie. "Ravenclaws... Gryffindors... Hi, Matthew... Hufflepuffs, but no Evie..." he muttered to himself. Students already were getting down to the business of catching up, playing Exploding Snap, and trading chocolate frog cards. They were also self-segregating by house, he noted in the back of his mind.<p>

Crossing into the next car, he heard a commotion from up ahead and saw Leo Stone coming the other way. "Leo, what is it?"

"Oh, just some Slytherin fighting. Nothing to do with me."

"Aren't you prefect now?" Lucas nodded at the silver pin with a capital **P** on his senior's lapel. "Shouldn't you do something?"

Stone was one of the new prefects for Gryffindor. Though only slightly taller and slightly heavier built than the average fifth year, crowned with a shock of dirty blond hair, his cocksure confidence gave him presence and weight in the house. "I told you, not my business. Who cares what happens to Slytherin, eh? I'm due in the prefect's carriage." Stone excused himself and slipped by in the narrow hallway.

Lucas glared at the retreating back but said nothing. Continuing forward, he was not surprised to find Malacius Viperii and his cronies, Finley and Callum, already causing a stir. The three had donned their severe black school robes, resembling an execution squad more than a trio of students. However instead of picking on some poor student, Finley Malvern - Malacius' favored lieutenant - was shouting at his boss, and quite loudly too. Malacius lounged length-wise on a bench, back against the wall, feet propped up, one arm behind his head, with a smile of smug satisfaction across his lips.

"... betray mine, and you have the gall to still order..." Finley raged, but Lucas only half-heard the conversation as he noticed a child, almost certainly an incoming first year, standing in the compartment, visibly afraid but not moving from the spot. The boy looked vaguely familiar.

"Yes, yes," the tall, thin Malacius waved Finley down with a patronizing hand. "I expected this fuss. Now that you've gotten it off your chest, you may go." The lazy wave transfigured into a shooing motion. Finley's color deepened beneath his kempt black hair, and he pulled out his wand. But this was exactly the reaction Malacius was fishing for. Probably. It was hard to tell with Malacius as he played with his cards close to his chest.

Lucas paused in the doorway, his manner intimating he had no wish to embroil himself in the argument. A Gryffindor intruding when Slytherin wands were drawn was like feeding a dragon firewhiskey. Instead, he hissed in the direction of the first year.

Callum Sedleigh, the big silent one of Malacius' goons, now had his own wand in hand but was pointing it at no one in particular. "Finley, I don't think that will help things."

"Yes, don't start anything you can't finish," said blonde boy in the corner with a leering grin. Malacius had a habit of saying, "Yes," in an infuriatingly condescending manner, as if Callum had remarked that galleons were shiny. His manner was relaxed, but a wand had magically appeared at his fingertips as well.

Lucas' gestures for the kid to leave the compartment became increasingly frantic, but the black-haired youth wasn't looking at him, transfixed as he was by an imminent wandfight. Lucas racked his mind. _What wand motion do you use to Shield another person?_ But he came up empty.

Finley's eyes, honed by seeker training to read details, noted Callum's body language: he held his wand neutrally, but Callum kept his eyes on Malacius. Playing beater for the Slytherin quidditch team, Callum habitually watched the greatest threat. If push came to shove, Finley guessed, Callum would side with him. But he wasn't sure, and now wasn't the time for subtlety.

"Callum," said Finley, not taking his eyes off Malacius' wand arm for, despite his arrogance, the scion of Viperii was an excellent duelist. "Between us, we can take him."

"Why should he? My father hasn't done anything to his family... yet." He let the threat hang in the air. "You seem to be under the impression he'll follow you in this rebellion."

"This is not a rebellion. Your family turned on mine first, and-"

Malacius gave another dismissive wave. "Yes, yes-" Sickles were silver colored.

A growl rumbled from Finley's throat and he raised his wand. Callum reached out to stop, but it was over in a blink.

Finley saw the first wand movements of Malacius' favorite curse: the full Body-Bind Curse, which left the victim helpless but had no other ill effects to distract from how vulnerable they suddenly were. And Malacius was extremely fast with it.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Protego!"

A bolt of green shot from Malacius' wand and bounced off Finley's shield. And ricocheted into the nearby first year, just as Malacius hoped, which was not hard in these close quarters. The child fell to the floor, body rigid as a plank. And as Finley turned to see what happened, that was all the distraction Malacius needed for his next hex cut through a weak spot in Finley's Shield charm. A moment later, another thump announced another body hitting the floor.

From his vintage point on the rocking floor of the train, Finley watched as Malacius' satisfied smirk floated into view, standing triumphantly above him. When suddenly it was obscured by the enormous shadow of Callum. "Stop, sir. Please." Callum's voice spoke deference, gentleness, and of mercy, which most did not expect from the hulking boy.

Callum had a large weight advantage over Malacius, but Lucas could see who was in charge of the situation. Like a river levy, the bigger boy could impede the flood, but he could not stop the water if it was determined.

Lucas took advantage of the lull to pull the first year from the compartment, though he was finding it hard to Locomortis the body out the door without banging it in his rush. Behind him, Malacius grinned, savoring the moment. The Slytherin made a show of leisurely putting away his wand and folding his arms behind his back before answering. "Why should I?"

"Professor Slughorn says, 'Violence is the crudest form of power,'" Callum quoted their house master.

Malacius thought a while then gracefully acceded. "Well, we Viperii are anything but crude." He resumed his lounging pose in the corner of the compartment. "I think I've made my point. Dispose of him, then return."

Lucas had already slipped away with the first year in tow. Callum didn't bother with Levicorpus but simply hefted Finley onto his back, though it felt odd that he didn't bend as most bodies do. He maneuvered Finley through the door and just as it closed said, "I don't know if I'll be returning," then disappeared down the corridor.

Callum had a reputation as being the dumb muscle, but even he wasn't so stupid as to wait around for Malacius' reaction. He trooped down the train after Lucas.

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><p>AN: This is a fanfic about Hogwarts. It's after the war. Life goes on, not just for the original power trio, but for the rest of the world as well. A generation of students has graduated since The Deathly Hallows, but Hogwarts is still there, just like your school when you graduated.<p>

While the setting is all J.K. Rowling, the greatest influences on this fic are the early stories of P.G. Wodehouse, which capture all of the fun of school without the schoolwork: the friendships, the rivalries, how quidditch matches are the most important thing ever, and about breaking the rules right under the professors' noses. If you liked the school bits of Harry Potter, I suggest reading 'Mike,' especially the second half 'Enter Psmith.' Just replace all references to cricket with quidditch.

Reviews welcome. What do you think of the characters so far?

Further reading:

_Mike_ by P.G. Wodehouse ( .org/wiki/Mike_%28novel%29 )


	2. Chapter 2

"Lucas! There you... What are you doing with that boy?" Evie Wrykyn appeared in the doorway leading to the next carriage. She had not yet changed into her school robes, instead wearing her favorite lavender pink (now fading) hoodie over jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt.

Lucas only managed a distracted, "Hi, Evie," while he floated the first year to an empty space at the back of the carriage. Setting him gently on the floor, he said the Rennervate countercurse. An unruly mop of black hair sat up, breathing deeply and checking that all his limbs were functioning again.

Evie's latent motherly instincts took over. She knelt on the floor and comforted the young boy. A waterfall of golden hair spilled out of her hood, where it had been pooling. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Something in Evie's smile made even strangers trust her. Perhaps because it was always genuine. The first year spilled his life story. "Some guy invites me into his compartment. Then he," here he gestured at Finley, "barges in and starts yelling and picking a fight. Then he," pointing his finger in Lucas' face, "Comes in. Then spells go off. Bang! Poof! I can't move, and now I'm here."

"Well, this is Lucas," Evie smiled and indicated the solemn looking boy kneeling beside her. Lucas visibly drooped with guilt for not just dashing in and grabbing the boy. Godric Gryffindor would have. "Meanwhile, they," she gestured with considerably less affection at Callum and Finley, who was just now standing up, "are Finley and Callum. And my name is Evie. What's yours?" She turned her bright blue eyes on the first year, still smiling reassuringly.

"My name is James."

"Hang on a minute... Are you James Potter?" asked Lucas.

The boy's surprise was not feigned. "How did you know?"

"Headmistress McGonagall told me you'd be coming. I'm in Gryffindor, and we have loads of pictures of your dad. I can see the resemblance."

James looked away. Standing in the shadow of his father, the most famous wizard alive, named after a former Head Boy, and apparently inheriting his looks from both of them, it felt like an insurmountable wall.

Evie seemed to pick up this. "And now you have the chance to show everyone what kind of wizard you will be."

The words sounded vaguely like something Uncle Ron had said. And he knew: Head Boys for older brothers and the smartest witch in the school and the youngest seeker in a century (who also happened to be The Boy Who Lived) for best friends, it was like he would always be a background character in someone else's story. But Uncle Ron had told Voldemort's locket to stuff it, married the witch, and was now an auror despite missing his seventh year at school.

"Are you in Gryffindor too?" piped James.

"I'm Hufflepuff," replied Evie, with pride.

"And I bet they're Slytherin," said James, nodding at Finley and Callum.

Finley looked down at the child still sitting on the floor. "Not all Slytherin are the same, kid. Don't mix me with Malacius' kind."

Lucas stood up and faced Finley. Evie was better at comforting people, and this was how he handled things. "Oh, how many kinds of bullying are there?"

"I was just following orders." Finley stared right back. "I'm through with Malacius, so I'm through with his tricks."

"'Just following orders?'" Lucas was reminded about something his mother had said about the Muggle Nuremberg trials during the time of Grindelwald. On cue, the Hogwarts Express entered a tunnel, and the only illumination came from the train's own, which cast the scene with a flickering light.

"Let me tell you something, Gryffindor." Finley stepped forward to get in his face but Lucas didn't retreat. They had clashed a few times before, usually at Malacius' instigation, and neither gave an inch. They stood at the same height and glared at each other eye to eye, snarls of derision on their lips. "My family was in bad shape after the war. My father was not a Death Eater, but he is a Slytherin and proud of it. But most people don't know the difference, see? Business was poor, until the Viperii stepped in to help. They saved my family, and I followed their son in return, because we repay our debts. That is, until his father betrayed mine last week. Now I have a different sort of debt to repay."

Lucas could see how, in some corkscrew way, Finley justified his previous behavior. "But when Malacius said to hex someone helpless you never said no, did you? It never revolted you to the point that you tried to talk him out of it?"

And just as suddenly, the train exited the tunnel, a bright sunlight once again streamed through the wide windows of the Hogwarts Express. Finley looked away. "No. No, I didn't. Callum tried." Callum fidgeted in a manner that looked strange for a fifteen-year old boy that was already six foot, eleven stone, with a wild mane of red frizzy hair. "I didn't like or dislike what I was doing, I just did a job." He looked back at James, his eyes showing the apology was sincere. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean for anyone else to get hurt. It's my fight."

"Stop calling me 'kid.'" said James. Finley turned and headed back down the corridor.

Callum called after him, "Where are you going?" afraid he already knew the answer.

"Going to finish what I started, now that it's free of innocent bystanders."

Callum caught him by the arm, but Lucas spoke first. "So you're going to sink to Malacius' level?"

"Listen, Gryffindor. My family is ruined because of that snake in the grass. We might not be able to pay even a single Hogwarts' tuition next year, and my brother is up then. Like hell am I going sit around and watch him be deprived of his birthright and turn into a squib because the Viperii decided they needed another summer mansion. You might be able to afford to be high and mighty, but my family can't. Malacius is going to learn that betrayal has a price too."

Lucas' mind shot back to his father sitting in his study, where he went to be alone and where he forbade mirrors. Harry Potter lead a (relatively) normal life despite the lightning scar hidden under his hair, but some people survived the last war with wounds much worse, both physical and mental. "Someone already got hurt today. I won't let you."

"Won't let me? You? What do you have to do with this? What do you care? You Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and-" Finley spat.

"I care." That was Callum, who was still holding on tight. He quoted Professor Slughorn again: "'Revenge only leads to more revenge, and that is why Slytherins are treated like they are.' There's got to be another way."

It was a few moments before Finley responded, as if he were thinking his options over. "Fine. He's probably expecting me anyway. I can deal with him later." Visibly struggling to keep his cool, Finley pushed past Lucas and Evie, in the opposite direction of Malacius' compartment, and into the next carriage car. Callum went after him.

"You're not like the Slytherin I expected," said James to Callum as he squeezed by. Callum just nodded and followed in his friend's wake.

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><p>AN: I created this story primarily as a storytelling exercise, with framework provided by Primetime Adventures, an RPG about making television shows. It is hard to describe how brilliant this book is. If every Hollywood writer had a copy of this book, there'd be less crap on the air.<p>

To be honest, this is part of the reason I hated writing in school. Teachers told you to write, but past finding grammatical errors, they didn't really explain how to write well. So I went into engineering. Engineers take things apart, try to understand the principles on which each subsystem works and how the components work together. And once you understand what's going on (thanks to Primetime Adventures and TVTropes), you can build your own and fine tune it. This turns writing from an art to a science.

My goal for the exercise is this: create an ensemble cast, and write a series of compelling scenes that keep you, the reader, interested. If I do my job properly, you should be able to reproduce my character and scene notes. Actually, if I do my job properly, you should just be able to enjoy reading it and not worry about the gears in the back making everything run.

Reviews welcome. How's the dynamic between Lucas, Finley, and Callum? How do you like Evie?


	3. Chapter 3

Ava Beckford poked her bespectacled and freckled head out of her compartment, wondering what all the commotion was. Some students she recognized as Slytherin were arguing, which did not sound all that interesting, so she shut the door.

Except a foot was in the way. Ava traced the foot up the long legs and into the grinning face of Ella Barringer, a grin like a cat who just saw a little bird. Behind Ella stood her posse, Grace and Ruby. "Hello, Ava," said Ella in her silky voice that could turn even Ravenclaw boys' brains to mush.

"Hi, Ella." Ava tried to smile warmly, but Ella was an intimidating presence.

"We were looking for an empty compartment."

"Oh, well you're welcome to come in." Ava moved aside and waved invitingly at the vacant benches. "Plenty of room."

Ella entered. "But this compartment isn't empty." She looked pointedly at mousey girl. The taller, brunette witch stood in sunlight streaming in from the window, which showed off her new robes. Few young women appeared to have a figure beneath their school robes, but Ella did. She looked as if she had stepped out of a painting, some artist's archetype of dark-haired beauty: refined, intelligent, and fatal if crossed. The way she was standing said she now owned the compartment.

Ava suddenly felt small and realized her hair was an untidy mess and that her robe belonged in a thrift shop, even though she did not follow fashion and thus had little information to base this on. But she dug up her inner reserves. "We could share. We all Ravenclaws, but we haven't gotten to know each other..."

Ella shared a knowing glance with her wingmen, who trouped in. Grace wore a pair of thick-rimmed, boxy glasses she started wearing second year after one too many dumb blond jokes and now sported a hot librarian look with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Ruby, fittingly, had waves of red curls. What she lacked in height, she made up for in energy: she walked fast and talked fast, but even still her pronunciation of charms remained meticulous and precise.

Ava's seat was still warm when she returned to her corner and opened her laptop. Ella sat on the other end of the bench, and her friends sat opposite. "Another Muggle compute-or?"

"Yes!" squeaked Ava excitedly. She was about to launch into a description of her newest gadget when Ella continued on.

"I hope it last longer than the last one."

"It should. Professor Babbling helped me engrave some protective runes. This one is for water," she showed the a nineteen-sided seal inscribed with various runes engraved onto the lid. "And this is for electricity," pointing at a triangular seal wedged between the many air vents and access panels on the bottom of the laptop.

"Such a tragedy, what happened to the last one," drawled Ella. Grace and Ruby didn't dare look at each other. No one knew who had zapped Ava's last computer, but it was not becoming to smile at her misfortune. "Muggle things are so fragile."

Ella and Ruby were purebloods, and so all they knew about Muggles came from hearsay and Muggle Studies, which meant they knew little and most of that was unreliable. And while Grace's mother wasn't magical, she vastly preferred it to Muggle technology, and their household was practically free of Muggle traces.

Meanwhile Ava's family was Muggle through and through, but they were highly supportive of her. She remembered her birthday over three years ago when she received the fateful green-inked invitation delivered by owl. Her father had framed the letter, and it was still mounted on the wall beside her brother's secondary school certificate. "Well, it isn't as robust as magic, but Muggle technology doesn't misbehave when it breaks down. My old quill has a nasty sense of humor..."

"Well magic is alive, isn't it? It's not some Muggle's dumb and lifeless tool."

The offhand comment hit Ava like a physical slap. She and her brother had played video games daily after school as soon as her hands could fit around the controller. She learned to read in order to learn programming. In her jacket pocket, she could feel the comforting weight of her Nintendo DS 4D2. She would have brought her smart phone, but Hogwarts' protective wards also blocked reception.

Yes, computers were dumb. Oh, how many hours had she spent with a debugger, wishing for a programming language that did what she meant rather than did what she wrote. But devices had quirks and personality and memories. Ella might as well have said the family dog was interchangeable with a pet rock.

Ava said nothing and retreated behind her laptop screen and large glasses. Her hair was still a mess, and her robe would never be as flattering as Ella's, but back here those things didn't matter. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Ella had already turned to her friends, who were noisily discussing spells out of Witch Weekly, interesting books they read, and the occasional piece of gossip. Ravenclaws collected knowledge of all kinds like magpies hoarded shiny things.

After an hour, Ava's fingers unconsciously hit the save hotkey in the text editor for the umpteenth time (it was a habit you learned after losing several hours' work one too many times) and waited while her laptop went to sleep. The tri-colored queens of Ravenclaw had not attempted to include her in all this time, and they did not move to do so now. So Ava slipped her her laptop into a special hip pocket on her robe, which should have been much too small but swallowed it happily and hardly felt any heavier.

Wordlessly, she stood up and walked to the door. "I'm going to... to find the trolley lady." If Ella's coterie noticed, not a ripple passed through their conversation. Did someone make me invisible and cast Quietus on me?, Ava asked herself. Maybe I should have been a ninja instead of a witch. She walked through the door and quietly shut it behind her and didn't return.

AN: Firstly, I know now that no muggle electronics work at Hogswarts, so I have to rethink Ava's technomancy.

Anyway, that's the fifth and last main character. Don't worry, there will not be LoadsAndLoadsOfCharacters to keep track of; I don't have that many characters developed. I'm aiming for a FiveManBand, the exemplar of which is Star Wars. Can you figure out who's who yet?

A note on names: I'm pretty bad at coming up with names. The surnames of the main cast are school names in P.G. Wodehouse's school stories (see Chapter 1 author notes), since this is a homage, though their first names were picked from a list of common UK baby names. The family names of some minor characters are taken from the same stories above.

Reviews welcome. What do you think of Ava?


	4. Chapter 4

"Potter, James."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The scarlet and gold decked table exploded in cheers and clapping. The newly sorted boy ran to take his spot at the banquet table as Neville and Professor Babbling, the head of Gryffindor house, looked on beaming.

Above, the ceiling of the Great Hall showed a galaxy of stars in a cloudless sky, augmented by a floating ballet of candles that turned night into mid-day. Banners of blue, green, scarlet, yellow, black, bronze, gold, and silver hung majestically around the walls. Polished silverware and gleaming plates hinted at the unrivaled feast that was soon to begin.

The Great Hall bustled with excitement as students whispered to new house members and old friends while the Sorting Hat performed its centuries old duty. Some of the new Slytherin couldn't help notice that, while their new house cheered mightily for them, the rest of the school tended to eye them with cold suspicion of what they might become.

When the last first-year had been sorted in Ravenclaw, the tall witch with square spectacles and emerald robes rose from the headmistress' chair. Her stern look brooked no nonsense, and the students who were still prattling on were quickly shushed by their neighbors. First years, who had relaxed during the convivial Sorting Ceremony, suddenly felt their fears flooding back. But these were soon allayed when a warm smile spread across Headmistress McGonagall's face. Her pointed hat sat jauntily cocked to one side and hinted that there was more to her than her prim facade projected.

"Welcome, students. We especially extend a hand to our new pupils who will be joining us for another year at Hogwarts. I know any words I could say now will only postpone us from the feast, so let us begin."

As the students applauded, the dishes filled with the traditional roasts and veg, but here and there the house elves tried to branch out with the occasion foreign cuisine like curry, pasta, and couscous. While the Bloody Baron held court in center of the Slytherins, eying the spread he could not partake of, Finley and Callum sat at the far end of the table, oblivious to much going on around them.

As the House of Viperii held great influence in the wizarding world, Malacius' word held great sway in Slytherin house. News of Finley's fall from favor had spread fast, and few dared to associate with him, lest it become contagious. Only Callum sat with him, and they dug through their meal in silence.

Finley broke the silence. "You don't have to do this. My sources tell me Malacius was already mobilizing to deal with me before we got on the train." Finley's 'sources' was Kyle, one of the better Slytherin information brokers, who was still willing to do business with him. "But he hasn't started against you yet."

"We're friends, Finley." Callum stated it as a simple fact.

"Don't think I don't appreciate it. But I know what's in store for me. I accept the risks. Don't see why-" He stopped as he noticed the surrounding chatter precipitously died out.

Callum saw Malacius strolling their way. Normally, Finley and he would be trailing in his wake. With a rapier on his right hand and a sledgehammer on the left, Malacius always had the right tool on hand for the job. But even without minions, he was supremely confident. Unfortunately, Callum knew that confidence was backed up by a wicked talent for magic. Malacius didn't need minions to enforce his will, they were just useful to have around.

Malacius' eyes were locked entirely on Callum, though Finley was well within his peripheral vision in case he tried anything with the wand he was tightly gripping in his pocket. The tall blonde got right to the point. "Callum, return to your station," he ordered.

"What is my station, sir?" Callum played his dumb muscle role.

"On my left side, of course."

"Will you still step on those who get in your way?"

Malacius treated it like a compliment and smirked. "Of course."

"Then no." The reply was immediate. Callum had no problem with being a subordinate and taking orders, but he regretted many of the orders he had carried out at Malacius' behest.

"You don't have to do this, Callum," said Finley.

"Keep out of this." Malacius still didn't deign to look his way, but the words at least acknowledged his presence.

"I'll be okay. No need to stick your neck out for mine."

Callum looked at his companion. Finley's eyes said the words were sincere, that he didn't want Callum to get hurt or, at the very least, have Callum's troubles on his conscience. Callum turned to directly face Malacius, who was almost as tall but quick and lithe to his own muscular bulk. "This is for me."

"Yes, yes." Malacius combed back his blonde bangs with a hand. "I hope you enjoyed this grandstanding. But, as you say, I trample those who get in my way. Do you want to be in front of or riding the dragon?"

"Why don't you just leave him alone?" Finley butted in again.

Eyes still locked on Callum, the reply came, "Because to deny me would be to insult me, and we Viperii do not take insults lightly."

"I've got dirt on you. You do anything to Callum, and I'll use it."

"Your threat holds no water. As if you weren't planning to use it on your own behalf anyway. The family already took that into consideration before exploiting yours." The word 'exploiting' rolled from his tongue with a particularly gratified tone.

"We can reach a mutual deterrence agreement: you keep your secrets, Finley doesn't come under pressure." A Muggle-historian might have noted the similarity to western atomic weapons preventing a Soviet invasion of Berlin and vice versa.

Finley is a true friend, Callum thought, but doesn't he realize this is my fight? "Stop! I-"

"What's all this?" Professor Slughorn's genial voice cut in, but with an undertone that he knew exactly what this was about, so why don't you stop making a scene in front of the entire school, hmmm?

Malacius understood and stepped away. "Think about it, Callum. I won't hold this against you if you return."

"You already have my answer." Under Slughorn's watchful eye, and the gazes of the assembled faculty at the high table, the banquet resumed, though it turned to ashes in Callum's mouth.

AN: Reviews welcome. How do you like Finley and Callum?


	5. Chapter 5

On the quidditch pitch, Lucas was helping Evie sharpen her chaser skills, practicing passing while flying evasive maneuvers, though watching the way her sandy blonde hair trailed behind her like the tail of a comet meant he kept missing the quaffle. They patched things up from their tiff a couple weeks ago, and both had fallen into their usual Hogwarts routine.

After half an hour, someone clad in a blue and silver quidditch uniform called from the sidelines. "Excuse me, we have the field reserved from 3pm onward today. Tryouts, you see?" Already, a number of Ravenclaws were swarming onto the field, warming up and doing practice laps.

Evie floated closer so she didn't have to shout so loud. "Sorry! Didn't know."

"No problem!" Lucas threw Evie a long arcing pass, which she caught easily, and followed her to the bleachers.

Unlike the Slytherin team, who demanded absolute secrecy, for the past couple years the Ravenclaws had an open offer to all other teams: they could watch Ravenclaw training if Ravenclaw could watch theirs, theorizing that the exchange of information would benefit both teams the same amount and improve both teams relative to their competition. Slytherin, of course, declined. Gryffindor, as current favorites for this year's quidditch cup, thought they had more to lose than gain for now. Only Hufflepuff agreed unconditionally. As reserve chaser for Hufflepuff, Evie had watched the odd Ravenclaw practice before.

The Ravenclaw captain, William Burgess, decided to kill two birds with one stone and had the chasers face off against the keepers while his co-captain handled the beaters and seekers. One by one, the chasers would make penalty shots against the current keeper under scrutiny while the captain took notes. Ava waited her turn with the rest of the keepers in the stands behind the hoops, alternately quieting her stomach butterflies and checking her arithmancy runes.

Burgess called, "Beckford, Ava!" She was second in line.

The bespectacled fourth-year managed to not trip over herself while mounting and floated up toward her position. Under her breath, she muttered, "Run program: trajectory," then signaled to William her readiness.

The first chaser held the quaffle behind his back, intending to play a shell game of which arm the shot would come from. Rarely used during play, this tactic did come in handy for penalty shots, buying a split second of the keeper's reaction time. It was also intended to impress the captain with his ambidexterity. The chaser rocketed straight at the goal, steering with only his legs and shifting body mass. Just inside the scoring area, the bright red ball appeared in his left hand and shot toward the nearest hoop.

And straight into Ava's arm.

The fast moving projectile still stung through the keeper's padding, but Ava hardly noticed. She watched the blocked ball miss the hoop by yards and drift slowly toward the ground under control of the Pennifold charm. "It works!" she thought to herself. "I can do this." A first-year duly recovered the ball and sent it back to the center of the pitch for future penalty shots.

Ruby, the next chaser, decided to make a right hook, passing left-to-right (from her perspective) and slightly downward in a path across the goals, the idea being, if keeper committed too early to one hoop, she could make a shot on a later one.

And this is what Ava saw: projected through her glasses, she saw a blue line with Ruby's most likely path, updated every tenth of a second. Red arcs brightened and faded according to the threat of quaffle shot on each hoop. Little arrows told her where to position herself to meet the oncoming attack. All of this was computed from the chaser's current position and velocity vector, training data Ava collected from quidditch games and moving photos, some minor divination, all tied together with arthimancy and programmed into runes on her glasses and laptop.

What the audience saw was Ava completely disregard Ruby's early fake, almost casually stay between her and the hoops, and easily block the late shot on the left bottom hoop.

The captain scribbled furiously. Ella and Grace exchanged meaningful nods.

Grace came in straight and fast, like the first chaser, making jinks toward the side goals, but Ava never fully committed in either direction. Running out of pitch, Grace swerved left.

Ava's glasses computed that, with the swerve's course and velocity, the angle would be difficult to hit the further hoops, so now she should drift rightward with Grace. This time, she caught the quaffle in her outstretched hand. Ava didn't handle quaffles too often, and it took a few moments to get its Gripping charm to release.

Ella, had she been on the ground, would have tapped her feet. Instead, she accepted the quaffle offered by an overawed second-year boy without a glance. She was instead looking at the sun, behind her and to the right. "Not quite low enough..."

Upon the start signal, she climbed up quite high and to the left and carried speed through a right turn across the pitch. Then she banked and dove for speed.

Burgess nearly snapped his quill taking notes. Ella had built up speed on the left side of the pitch before zooming to the right side to lose herself in the sun, reducing the time the keeper had to adjust to the scheme. The sun was too high to make an attack directly out of the sun - the shot angle would make it difficult - so instead she used the height to build more speed and curved into a textbook left hook. Ella faked a throw with her right hand but was really moving the quaffle so she could bat it with her left.

And Ava barely flinched. She had already programmed her glasses to neutralize the sun for just this situation. The batting action, she noted as events seemed to unwind in slow motion, reminded her of an overhand volleyball serve. She managed to get few fingers on the quaffle, enough to deflect it into the edge of the hoop, where it bounced harmlessly away.

The rest of the chasers, demoralized by the keeping display, tried increasingly radical tactics, but Ava shut them out. Only after she resumed her seat and another keeper took over did the chasers slowly recover their confidence.

When every chaser had a chance against each keeper, the captain selected half of each group, thanked them, and asked them to try again next year. Then he called to his deputy, who sent over the pick of the beaters. Now it was to be two-on-two: two chasers against a beater and keeper in a test of skill and teamwork.

"Do you have a weak side?" the beater asked Ava, who was up first.

"The left, slightly. How about standard intercept at the scoring area boundary?"

"You got it." And the beater veered off to take a defensive position.

The first pair of chasers was Ella and Ruby, the former starting with the quaffle high and slightly to Ava's right, the latter low and to the left. Unbeknownst to her, near the foot of the goal, Grace was telling a first-year runner, "Take a break. I'll take over for a while."

The beater started by knocking the bludger down the right sideline, where it picked up Ella and curved inward. She turned with it, always presenting her beam aspect to maximize her crossing vector relative to the bludger's path. This easily caused the missile to overshoot, and Ella returned to her attack run, but the beater was already zipping to redirect the bludger.

It caught up with Ella again just before she entered the scoring area. The bludger was on her six and gaining, so she would have swerve and throw off her shot or not swerve and get hit. "At least we have one good beater on the team." She made a lateral pass to Ruby and banked to pull the bludger away from her partner's path. In one smooth motion, Ruby caught and slung the quaffle at the goal.

... just as Grace whispered, "Finite Incantatem," from behind the goal, and Ava's eye wear became normal glasses. As if hit with a Confundus charm, Ava could do nothing as the quaffle grazed by her ear, feeling like it took some hairs with it, before rocketing through the center hoop.

The first inkling Burgess had that something was wrong was when Ava started drifting toward the ground while fiddling with her glasses. Soon, the captain, the beater, Grace, Evie, Lucas, and some curious Ravenclaws were clustered around her on the pitch. Ella and Ruby remained a distance away which said they were concerned by not involved.

Burgess had seen quidditch accidents before and took control of the situation. "Are you hurt? Were you hit? Did something happen to your glasses?"

"They were charmed." This was Grace, and everyone turned to look at her brandishing her wand. "I figured out she was using some enchantment to help her cheat, so I cast a Finite Incantatem. Suddenly she couldn't stop an easy shot, so hypothesis verified."

At the word 'cheat,' the captain's blood started to rise. He loved books and scrolls as much as the next Ravenclaw, but quidditch was his passion, and he wouldn't tolerate cheating anymore than Madam Pince would stand for bonfires in the library. "Is this true?"

"I did enchant my glasses, but is it cheating? Harry Potter used the Impervius charm during a quidditch game in 1993 to help him see during a storm."

"Yes..."

"And the rules say players are allowed to take their wands as long as they don't use them on other players-"

"True..."

Ava was gradually recovering from her run in with the quaffle. Facts made an excellent defense. "... which implies that casting beneficial spells is allowed."

"But Felix Felicis is banned." The circle parted to allow Ella entrance, for her presence demanded it. "The rules are quite clear on that. It would give an absurd advantage to one side."

"Ella is right," said Burgess. "I could ask Madam Hooch to be sure, but I believe it goes against the spirit of the game."

"Oh." Ava looked crestfallen. The months spent working on this came to naught. "I'm sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have..."

"It's all right," the captain assured her. His relief was apparent now that it was established the cheating was unintentional. Just another Ravenclaw trying to get an edge, which was completely normal. "Can we resume tryouts?"

The circle broke apart, and Evie and Lucas flew back toward their seats when a clear commanding voice rang out. "And where are you going?" Ella called out to Ava.

"I can't use my glasses so..."

"So you're just going back to the dorm after getting this far and waste everyone's time?"

Burgess agreed. "Yeah, Ava, finish tryouts. Without your enchantment." Though he also told a runner to fetch the third choice keeper to have another go.

Ava, half reluctantly, half buoyed by the chance to redeem herself, launched herself back up to the hoops.

In the first run, Grace dove out of the sun and scored a goal without Ava even moving. The next pair of chasers, despite harassment by the beater, caught her out of position and also scored. For the second go around, Ella paired with Grace instead. Grace pulled a Porskoff Ploy, pulling upward to take the bludger out of the equation while passing the quaffle to Ella below, leaving a one-on-one battle at the goal.

Ava completely fell for the fake out. By the time she recovered her balance, Ella was sitting nonchalantly beside the far hoop, one arm outstretched. She smiled, made sure she had Ava's full attention, and then released the ball through the hoop.

The captain blew his whistle and told the next keeper to take his turn. Ava sighed with relief. Ella hadn't wanted to give her a second chance at tryouts, she just wanted a second chance to get even. Burgess was telling her to not bother with the last two chaser pairs, though she knew what it meant about her chances for even reserve keeper.

She flew along the ground to where her things lay when a slim, blonde figure dismounted beside her. So Ella had come to gloat. "Look... Oh!"

Except it was not Ella. "Hi, I'm-"

"Evie Wrykyn, Hufflepuff, fourth year. We were in Care of Magical Creatures together last year."

"And you're Ava." Ravenclaws remember names because it is knowledge. Hufflepuffs remember names because they are people. "This is-"

"Lucas Sanstead, fourth year, Gryffindor. Electives: Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and..."

Lucas wondered if she knew his robe size or wand length too. "Um, hi."

If Evie showed concern that Ava apparently had a full dossier on Lucas, she didn't show it. "We were wondering if you'd like to practice quidditch with us some time."

Ava continued stalking out of the stadium. "You just saw me. I'm useless. And you're good. You were reserve chaser last year."

Okay, complete biographies on Lucas _and_ her. "You were amazing with your glasses."

"Well, they're illegal."

"Only during matches, but what about practices? You're clever enough to make them, so I'll bet you can think of some way to use them. Like athletes use technology to help them train for the Olympics."

Ava stopped in her tracks. Olympics? She remembered the family glued to the telly for two weeks, every other year, cheering the country's best on the world stage. "You're Muggleborn?"

Maybe not _complete_ biographies. "Half-blood, actually."

"That's brilliant! Hardly anyone I know talks about Muggle stuff."

"But there are Half-bloods and Muggleborn in Ravenclaw too, right?" Lucas finally entered the conversation.

"Yes, but they are so interested in learning more magic that they don't care for Muggle things."

"So, what do you say to practicing now and then?"

"Well, you're a chaser and a beater. I guess, Evie, you help Lucas by giving him target practice, and Lucas gives you practice dodging bludgers?"

"Something like that."

"And if we practice together, you get to practice against a keeper while I develop my keeper skills?"

"That's the idea. What do you say?"

"I am so in!"

* * *

><p>AN: What's Hogwarts without quidditch? So let the games begin.<p>

Reviews welcome. Were the quidditch descriptions easy to follow without a diagram?


	6. Chapter 6

Wending his way down the passageways, Finley wondered how only 300-some students made the rather spacious passageways and staircases feel busy in a large castle like Hogswarts. It must be magic. There were days he swore he would pass a student going up to, say, the Astronomy tower while he was taking the direct route to the dungeons. And then they would pass each other again a few minutes later.

He was making his way back from Transfiguration thinking about this for the _N_th time when he noticed his bag, usually loaded with books, was feeling quite light. He turned and spotted his Charms and Potions textbooks floating up and away.

He leaped and caught them, but instead dragging them to earth as expected, they held him up in midair. This was not an entirely unfamiliar situation: a bludger had knocked him off the broom a couple times and, in those instances, he managed to hold onto his broom with both hands while guiding it (not very quickly) down to the ground. The good news was he was much closer to the ground. The bad news was someone else was doing the steering, and right now they were pulling him ever closer to the high arched roof.

No, correction: now the books had decided to drift in opposite directions. He clung on, one in each hand, but the magic governing the books was stronger. Soon, they had pulled his arms from a large capital Y almost into a T, and he would soon either have to let go or see which arm got pulled off first.

It was when he was looking down toward his wand pocket, wishing he had it in hand, that he noticed everyone in hallway had stopped to gaze up at him. That did not surprise him. But he also noticed a Gryffindor boy, about second year by the looks of it, waving his wand at him. When the Gryffindor realized he had been spotted, his wand stopped casting, and Finley fell onto the hard castle flagstones.

Leaving the books where they lay, Finley drew his wand and commanded, "Stop!"

Rather quickly, a corridor of students scrambled out of the line of spell, revealing the boy who had not yet found a hiding place in the crowd. Discretion having failed, Tom Jellicoe now tried valor and turned to face his accuser.

"Why did you do that?" demanded Finley, pointing his wand with a hand that still ached from gripping the book.

"You don't remember?" asked a dismayed Jellicoe. Finley racked his memory but came up empty. "You dangled me over the lake last term."

Mentioning the lake triggered Finley's recollection. "Oh. Malacius ordered me to do that." He lowered his wand into a less threatening position. "Take up your beef with him."

"No, I think I'll take it up with you." Jellicoe still had his wand in hand, making Finley ready his muscles in case he needed to react quickly.

"I'm no longer associated with him. You were hung above the lake for crossing him or whatever whim took Malacius that day. Your problem is with him, not me."

"But you were the one who did it." This did not come from the Gryffindor, but from a sixth year Hufflepuff looking on from the crowd, a good head taller than those around him. "He's right to hold a grudge. I would too."

* * *

><p>Lucas heard a commotion in the next hallway over and curiosity got the better of him. It might just be Peeves making a racket again, though usually he waited until the school day was over so he could more easily catch any unsuspecting victim alone and a professor would not come after him for disrupting school.<p>

As he turned the corner, he noticed Stone and another Gryffindor leaning against a column, which was carved to resemble a man holding up the ceiling. "Something happening over there?"

"Is there?"

"Can't you hear it?" The shouting or noise was not loud but had been going on for a while.

"Didn't notice until you pointed it out. Do you hear anything, Robinson?" Stone turned to his friend also leaning against the same statue.

"Sort of... But I didn't think it was important."

"Yes, Robinson and I were engrossed in a conversation about troll hunters. What do you think-"

"Yes, fascinating. Aren't you going to investigate?"

"Why should I?"

"Prefect?"

"Oh, that again. You have some odd ideas about prefects."

"I know they're supposed to help keep order in the school, which includes looking into disturbances."

"Perhaps. But what is a disturbance? Talking too loud in the library is a disturbance. Perhaps I should camp out there?"

"A disturbance is what's happening on over there." He pointed around the corner. Whatever it was, it was still going on even while Stone and Robinson kept rambling. In fact Stone, who usually wasn't interested in talking to him, was strangely chatty. And when he first saw them, they didn't seem to be having a conversation, but rather quietly watching. As if on lookout.

Okay, so they were detaining him, but to what end? Without another word, Lucas turned and headed toward the sounds. Stone shot a final taunt, "You must be looking for brownie points to be made a prefect yourself, sticking your nose in everywhere," but made no attempt to stop him.

Lucas found a curtain of students in a half-circle facing the wall, and in the center, up against the wall, stood Finley, who was currently shouting, "How many times do I have to say it: that was also Malacius."

"Well we're getting tired of hearing it. Malacius is conveniently at fault for everything you've done, huh?"

"Yes!"

"What's going on?" asked Lucas.

"Lucas!" Jellicoe separated himself from the pack. He held Lucas in high esteem for helping him with some Slytherin toughs in his year and for giving him some ideas on some tougher essays. And that was before he heard the stories about Lucas' father. "We've got Finley Malvern cornered."

"Why do you have him cornered?"

"To get back at him," said the second year, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Remember when he swung me over the lake last spring?"

"He once set fire to my homework," said an indignant Ravenclaw.

"He made me puke butter beer in-" The vigilante was about to say, 'In front of Heather Thomason,' but quickly changed it to, "In the Three Broomsticks."

Finley explained again: "All Malacius' idea."

"Shut it, you," demanded someone in the crowd.

"Yeah. And now he's giving us some cock and bull story about not working for Malacius anymore." Lucas could sense the seething anger of the mob. A spark would start hexes flying.

Lucas spoke. "It's true. I saw them fighting. Spells firing and everything."

That seemed to make the mob stumble. "They could have been faking it. Putting on a show. Slytherins are sly bug-"

"Or they could have got back together afterward."

Lucas pressed on. "What if it's for real?"

"You still can't trust a Slytherin."

"All the more reason to get him now when he doesn't have Malacius and that big guy with him."

"Yeah, why should he get away with everything just because he broke up with his boyfriend?" Finley ignored that last slander.

"What should we do with him, Lucas?" The crowd turned to Jellicoe, and the Jellicoe turned to Lucas.

"I don't think this is the right way to resolve this."

The crowd was a mix of "Huh?"s and murmurs.

This is the best opening I'll get, thought Finley. His Slytherin instincts had already selected the proper fulcrum: the second-year was the most intent on retribution, but picking on him would only solidify the mob's animosity toward him. He had only acted against a few of the people here; most of them had been content to spectate until that sixth-year Hufflepuff butted in, and now they were going along with the Slytherin hunting program. Silence him, and the mob would lose momentum.

"What he means is you have a golden opportunity. If you leave us alone, Malacius and I will claw at each other, and you don't have to lift a finger. However, if you," Finley spoke directly to the sixth-year, "insist on getting between us, not only are you helping your real enemy, you're painting a target on your head." It was the obvious Slytherin thing to do, let your enemies fight amongst each other. You would hope at least the Ravenclaws were smart enough to see that.

"This is just a trick," came from elsewhere in the tumult.

"Even if it was a trick (which it isn't) you lose nothing. You just delay your recriminations until later. Or you could squander this chance..."

"What I meant," interrupted Lucas, as he strode into the circle to face Finley, "had nothing to do with Malacius. You owe these people for what you've done to them in the past." Finley glared daggers at him.

But then Lucas whipped around to face the horde, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Finley. "And you should accept the apology and give him a second chance."

The crowd was shocked by Lucas' face heel turn. "What?" "Why?"

"It what Albus Dumbledore would have done." said Lucas, simply. Some in throng looked down in shame or respect, maybe both. In the magical world, the name Dumbledore was no longer whispered in awe of his invincibility, but rather his pursuit of the right and just path. "If Finley is free from Malacius' influence, we shouldn't chase him away. Now that would be a golden opportunity thrown away."

The crowd stood in thoughtful silence. "You were going apologize, right Finley?" prompted Lucas.

Sonnuva..., thought Finley. People manipulation skills like that are wasted on a Gryffindor. But now this really was his best and maybe last chance. He approached one of his particularly vocal attackers, desperately trying to remember what he had done to him. "I'm sorry about your homework and any flak you got from your professor because of it."

Stepping to the right, he said to another, "I'm sorry about making you puke in front of that girl. I hope there was no permanent damage done."

That incident actually hadn't turned out so bad for the victim: after an initial feeling of disgust, Heather had expressed sympathy for being bullied by Slytherins, and that got them talking. It just hadn't been what he hoped to have happened that day. But while the boy was trying to put this into words, Finley had moved on.

Continuing to the right, he looked down at Jellicoe. "I'm sorry about swinging you over the lake. You didn't deserve it." Jellicoe appeared to be closely examining in his shoes while decided how to respond. The crowd could fall either way, and all it would need was a feather's push...

But the second-year startled everyone by clutching his pocket and, a moment later, legging it down the corridor. When he reached the end, he shouted, "Not enough! I don't believe you!" then dashed for safety behind a corner.

Stone made his entrance at this time demanding to know, in his prefect's voice, what the heck was going on. The audience was too busy watching Lucas ask Stone what he had been doing all this time to notice Mrs. Norris sneak in. And where Mrs. Norris went, Mr. Filch wasn't far behind.

* * *

><p>"Get in there!" Filch shoved Finley into his office. But when Lucas tried to enter as well, he blocked the door. "What do you want?"<p>

"I thought you could use a witness."

Lucas could see the rusty gears turning in Filch's head. "Fine. Both of yers sit down." The caretaker thrust a wrinkled finger at a couple rickety seats. In one practiced motion, he pulled a discipline form from his desk while sitting down in his own, far more comfortable, chair. Filch sat like a king perched on a throne, lord and master of his office, though it might be more accurately described as a closet. Like all petty school personnel, Filch made the most of his authority over the students in his power.

He spoke as he wrote: "Name: Malvern, Finley. Crime: Causing a fight. Punishment-"

"Hang on," interjected Lucas. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say?"

"All in good time, boy. Evidence is lower down on the page."

"I want to give evidence in his defense."

"In _defense_ of the culprit? A Gryffindor, helping a Slytherin? You been hit by a Confundus charm, boy?" By the way he said 'culprit,' it was clear that Filch had already made up his mind and convincing him otherwise would be an uphill battle.

"No, I-"

"Blackmailed you, eh?" At the prospect of sinking his teeth into a juicy conspiracy, Filch leered like a starving man eying a steak.

"No-"

"Imperius curse?" Filch recoiled in horror. Even if he was under an Imperius curse, Lucas doubted he would be allowed to say so.

Typical Gryffindor, thought Finley, all brashness and no finesse. A student could not change the mind of a man with the mentality of Filch by arguing with him. That would call into question his authority, which is fundamental to his identity, so Filch would fight it tooth and nail.

"Mr. Filch," Finley interceded as politely as those three syllables have ever been uttered, "whether or not this Gryffindor is under someone's influence, I think we should hear what he has to say. If his 'help' turns out to hurt my case, I would like the chance to deny it."

Yes, thought Filch, feigning assistance while secretly backstabbing each other was exactly the Slytherin-Gryffindor dynamic, though he would not use a word like dynamic. "All right, boy. Let's hear your story."

If Finley hoped Lucas saw through the subterfuge, he didn't. Lucas considered hanging him out to dry, but that would mean withholding the truth. He just gave Finley a look and started his prepared statement. "When I arrived, I found Finley surrounded by about twenty students with his back against the wall. I asked what was happening, and the students," Lucas carefully omitted Jellicoe's name, "said they had cornered him in order to get revenge for things he had in previous terms. Whatever Finley has done in the past, he was the victim in the fight today, not the instigator."

"So... what you're saying is instead of being punished for starting a fight today, he should be punished for a whole series of previous offenses?"

Real helpful, Gryffindor, thought Finley. He intervened again before Lucas had him serving detention from now until Christmas. "I was already punished for those. You had me serve detention once, and I also lost some house points." He neglected to mention the times he got away scot free.

"I remember." A nasty, lopsided grin spread across Filch's face. He remembered that detention well: he had Finley shovel out the kestrel stables by hand but forgot to mention to bring a mask or handkerchief for the smell. Satisfied that Finley had paid for his past crimes, Filch turned back to Lucas. "The prefect, Stone, disagrees with your story."

"I heard Leo say the Finley was at fault. But he arrived after me, so he did not have all the facts."

"But you also said you arrived after it started, so you might not have all the facts either, eh?"

Finley hoped Lucas had the sense to lie.

"Yes," admitted Lucas. If I had been there at the start, he thought, it might not have escalated to the point where Filch got involved.

"Then it's your word against a prefect's, boy."

"I understand, but Leo did arrive after me. Even prefects can be wrong."

"In the short time he has been prefect, Stone has already helped me catch one troublemaker. I am far more inclined to believe him than you. Also, when I reached the fight, Malvern here was not the only one I found in the circle." Filch squinted at Lucas, trying to detect any unease at the sudden accusation, but disappointingly saw none. "It's only on Stone's word that your name isn't on this discipline form too. Now, are you really calling him a liar?"

"You can ask anyone there that I was trying to defuse the situation."

"Yes, I'm sure your friends will say anything to get you off the hook."

"So... these are the friends you're implying I just fought?"

Filch brushed aside his logical inconsistency with a wave of his hand. "What interests me is that this is not the first time prefect Stone has tried to get a Gryffindor off the hook. You students may think I'm dumb because I'm a squib, but I can put two and two together."

Though, in this case, you got five, said Lucas to himself. On the other hand, it was odd for Leo to specifically mention him. He wondered if there was an ulterior motive.

"You've been very quiet," remarked Filch to Finley.

"Anything I say would just be a story to get myself out of this, right? And I had no friends or prefects in that mess to vouch for me. So while I didn't start the fight, I'm the one here in your office, and arguing only wastes your and my time."

"Darn straight. Finally, a student who understands." Understands you care more about the punishment than justice, thought Finley. Filch finished the form he had started. "Punishment: helping Professor Longbottom in the greenhouses this Saturday. I hear he has some new fanged geraniums that need to be tamed." Filch smiled at the sentencing.

When he was done, he began to file the paperwork away. "Malvern, Finley. Ah, there you are. And your name is Lucas...?" He looked at the Gryffindor.

"Sanstead."

"I remember you from when some first-years were being bullied last year."

"Yes. I was trying to stop it."

"Looks like we have ourselves a regular hero," said Filch sarcastically. "I don't have a file on you, but I'm going to make one now. Make sure it stays empty. Now get out."

After they had been shooed out of the office, Finley spoke first. "I appreciate you trying to help me. Both during the fight and in there."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Oh, I thought you understood. I wasn't saying you were double-crossing me. Okay, I did say that, but it was for Filch's benefit. He only listens to students if he thinks it would make it worse for them or someone else."

"That's incredibly cynical."

"You may think it's unreasonable if others don't think like you do, but I treat people as they are. He didn't listen to you until I implied you had some ulterior motive." There was something wrong with that, but Lucas couldn't put his finger on it, but while he was thinking, Finley changed the subject. "Are you going to Dueling Club?"

"I suppose. Though after what happened last year..."

"Professor Williamson is an ex-auror. If he can't control some students, magical law enforcement is in deep trouble."

"Well, that's just it. The way he controlled the problem was to disband the club."

"My sources tell me that he asked McGonagall for some tips."

The pair proceeded toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts room in the dungeons. "I'm sorry I couldn't convince Filch."

"By the time he dragged me to his office, the only thing that would have changed his mind would be the headmistress. But it doesn't matter, I was going to help Professor Longbottom anyway to prepare for my O.W.L.s."

Not for the first time, Lucas thought there might be more to Finley than a common thug.

* * *

><p>AN: Reviews welcome. How is the relationship Lucas and Finley developing? How was the characterization of Filch?<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

No one commented when a Gryffindor and a Slytherin walked into the Dueling Club room together; students from rival houses run into each other all the time, even outside classrooms. In preparation for the club meeting, the desks that normally occupied half the room had been pushed to the wall, and the knot of students congregating in the middle of the dungeon could appreciate its cavernous size.

Upon taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, Professor Williamson requested this room for his classes, the largest room in the dungeons. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of extremely thick, extremely sturdy, magic-reinforced granite. A History of Hogwarts said that the original four carved it to hold particularly brutish creatures during those dark times, including giants, though they would be hard to fit through the door. Other rumors (false revisionist rumors, probably) said Salazar Slytherin secretly tortured victims here, where no one could hear. The room was designed to take a lot of punishment while keeping whatever was inside contained. The Defense professor expected a great number of stray spells and a modicum of danger and therefore took precautions.

Like last year, boys comprised a good majority of the Dueling Club. Also, Gryffindor and Slytherin houses were particularly well represented. The students had consciously or unconsciously organized themselves into groups, with the knot of Slytherins to the right of the Gryffindors with the smarter Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs not standing in between them. Lucas found a spot around the Gryffindors, and Finley stood nearby, as far away from Malacius as he could.

"The first rule of Dueling Club is: you don't talk about Dueling Club. The second rule of Dueling Club is... Sorry, wrong script." A few Muggleborns giggled, but most of the students responded with confused silence. [Physical description of Williamson]

"To inaugurate the reopened Dueling Club, I would like to invite the oldest student from each house to step forward." After a few minutes of comparing birthdays, Gryffindor nominated Dunster, who was joined by Sheen from Hufflepuff, Clowes from Ravenclaw, and Gazeka from Slytherin. A transparent curtain immediately sprang up, with the professor and the volunteers (or more accurately, a spider and his flies) on one side and the rest of the students safely on the other.

Lucas watched Williamson as a beam of white light flashed from his wand to the floor, causing the classroom's checkerboard flagstones to carry the four volunteers to positions surrounding the professor, each twenty or so yards away. As the students were regaining their balance, Williamson continued. "I wish you four to duel me on my mark. No injurious, pain-inflicting, or lethal spells, thank you."

A sly grin spread across Gazeka's face. Sheen just looked anxious. A blue-white bubble appeared around Clowes.

"I did say on my mark," remarked Williamson.

"'The moment to take precautions is when you sense danger, not when spells start flying,'" said Clowes, reflecting the professor's lesson back on himself. He was one of two seventh years present studying for his Defense N.E.W.T.

The professor laughed at the subtle complement. "Good. 10 points to Ravenclaw. Now, are you ready?" The Gryffindor and Slytherin took up the traditional dueling stance while the Hufflepuff fished out his wand. "Three... Two..."

"Uh, professor?" asked the Clowes.

"One... Mark!"

It was over before Lucas even began to comprehend what had happened. With a swipe, the professor deflected Gazeka's spell, which incapacitated Sheen. Dunster cast his own shield but found himself sinking into the floor, which had turned liquid. Clowes wrestled with his wand, which had begun wiggling of its own accord when Williamson started counting down, and the professor's Expelliamus passed clean through his shield. Three wands arced through the air, toward Gazeka. Or, rather, a point just behind Gazeka where Williamson rematerialized, catching them in his outstretched hand while physically snatching away the Slytherin's wand.

The invisible curtain splitting the room parted while the professor Innervated Sheen and the floor coughed the Dunster back up, then the professor returned the wands to their respective owners.

"Headmistress McGonagall has permitted me to reestablish the Dueling Club under strict guidelines. The first rule of Dueling Club is you are here to learn how to duel, not rag on other students, not mess about with your friends, and not 'accidentally' hit your rivals with hexes. I have been given _carte blanche_ to hand out detentions and, if I see anything more dangerous than a stunning spell without my express permission, suspensions as well. Do I make myself clear?"

The assembled students murmured yeses and nodded. Finley, and he was sure a number of other Slytherins, understood perfectly: the professor's display was a show of force because he needed one to earn respect from new members and force old members into line. Still, unless they took him by surprise, he could neutralize half the club without singeing his robe. Not that anyone could catch him by surprise.

"Gazeka," Williamson called on the other seventh year N.E.W.T. taker, "analysis?"

Gazeka snapped off a response immediately, as had become used to in Defense class. "You reflected my spell at your attacker with the slowest reflexes, making use of your knowledge of the opposition."

"Meanwhile, your knowledge of your opposition should have told you I would be faster on the draw since both sides had the same warning, yet you cast an offensive spell before defending yourself. Explain."

"I also knew my defenses would be insufficient for a duelist with your experience, so I thought my best chance was to attack while your attention was split between four opponents."

"Insightful, but if that was your plan, why did you not communicate this to your teammates?"

"You said to duel you. You said nothing about teammates."

"If in a real-life situation, you and three others share a common threat in a more experienced duelist, you would decline their assistance?"

"There was insufficient time to coordinate, so in this scenario I treated their contribution like beneficial terrain: helpful, but only opportunistically."

The Defense professor turned to his other N.E.W.T. student. "Clowes, analysis?"

If the Ravenclaw was offended at being called opportunistic terrain, he did not show it. "I believe you cast a Wagglewand hex on my wand to counter my preemptive Protego. My distraction was sufficient that your Expelliamus cut through my shield. Dunster's opening move was to cast Protego while you were occupied with Gazeka, but Protego only protects against spells fired at the caster, so you manipulated the environment to bypass it. You also used mobility to defend yourself and keep your opposition off-balance."

"Very observant. Dunster?"

Dunster wracked his brains. It was hard to pay attention to anything else when you suddenly find yourself in quicksand. "Nothing to add but a question: how did you Apparate inside of Hogwarts?"

"As you know, no one can Apparate into, out of, or inside Hogwarts without the Headmistress' permission. Therefore I did not Apparate."

"Then what did you did?"

"I simply moved very very quickly. If you wish to know more, you will have to pass your Defense N.E.W.T. and complete auror training," Williamson dangled the carrot. He actively urged promising students to become aurors. Voldemort had taken the Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement completely by surprise, and he was making sure they were not understaffed when the next Dark Lord appeared. "Sheen, analysis?"

"I panicked and rushed my Protego, and it fizzled," he said simply.

"You are quite proficient in a controlled classroom setting. We'll keep working on casting under pressure."

"Yes, sir."

Williamson turned from the impromptu lesson back to the rest of the congregation. "Right, Dueling Club. In your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, as the name suggests, we learn to defend ourselves against, amongst other things, wizards who do not mean us well. This generally boils down to finding cover to hide in, getting away by Apparation or similar if you can and, if you can't, learning to cast a Shield charm properly so it actually protects you rather than a spot two feet to the left.

"In Dueling Club, we will learn to duel, which means instead ending the fight by running we have the alternatives of disarming or disabling your opponent. Yes, and I see by your young smiling faces that some of you are imagining doing exactly that to your enemies. Our goal here remains to end the fight without harm coming to yourself or any innocent bystanders. However, disarming and disabling can be used offensively, as they put your opponent at your mercy, and the only difference between that and becoming a dark wizard is they also find injuring, maiming, or killing others as valid alternatives, and it is a fine line.

"So the second rule of Dueling Club is that any member caught in a fight, unless acting in defense, will be banned from the club and given over to the headmistress and Filch for as harsh of a punishment they can come up with. And I would gravely recommend, if you wish to start your career as a dark wizard, not to do it in front of the son of the head auror." The students standing next to James Potter edged ever so slightly away.

...

AN: Okay, sorry, this scene was never finished. It needs to be rewritten from the perspective of the main characters. What's supposed to happen is Malacius tries to get back at Malacius by getting him thrown out of Dueling Club, while Lucas wants Finley to turn away from revenge.

Reviews welcome. Was Dueling Club interesting, what little was written of it?


	8. Chapter 8

Evie stepped through the portrait and into the Hufflepuff common room. Whiffs of roasted meats and pies from the nearby kitchen followed her in, adding to the homey feel of the warren. While the Hufflepuffs lived underground like their badger mascot, a great skylight illuminated one side of the room. Oddly, the skylight functioned despite the overcast, the sun's position in the sky, or time of year.

A bright fire stood on the other side, and plump sofas and foof chairs in yellow and black littered the floor, inviting denizens to gather in circles and chat the night away. Friendly faces peeked over seat backs and waved hello when she entered. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, though Evie was far too young to remember that song.

One face in particular she was glad to see. Leah Eckleton closed her textbook, got out of her seat, and stepped closer. "You made it!"

It took a second for Evie to decode the message, but when she caught on, she squealed with delight. "Really?"

"What's going on?"

"Evie's a starting chaser for our team!"

The room came alive with congratulations, even from the hopefuls that Evie had beaten for the spot. While there were three openings for chasers on the team, more than any other position, almost every wizarding child had, at one point or another, dreamed of being a star chaser. The seeker needed good eyes, the beaters big muscles, and the keeper was usually the kid who could barely fly, relegated to the position where they touched the quaffle the least. But the chaser was all about speed and agility, which had a power over children rivaling that of sweets.

Evie made chaser for the house's first seven in her fourth year, which wasn't unheard of, but Hufflepuff captains usually picked a fifth, sixth, and seventh year. This way, veterans could pass down their experience to new hands. Of course, these often were not their best three chasers, which is the reason some gave that Hufflepuff did not win their share of quidditch cups. Over the centuries, some captains had picked teams that would peak for one or two years, and in those years Hufflepuff was a force to be reckoned with. But when most of the team graduated, usually the outgoing captain with them, it was left to the new captain to build anew. Every time, the team would eventually return to tradition. It wasn't flashy, but it was dependable. It was Hufflepuff.

Thus Evie making the first seven was something to talk about. She received compliments magnanimously, and there was an small impromptu celebration in the fourth year girls' dorm (to also celebrate Leah making reserve chaser) with stashed jelly slugs and cauldron cakes. When the other girls eventually left to return to their schoolwork, Leah decided she couldn't put off the bad news any longer. "Evie?"

"Yeah, Leah?" Evie swept the remains of the party decorations into the bin with a wave of her wand.

"The captain wanted to speak to you about something."

From her friend's serious tone, Evie guessed it wouldn't be something fun. "Do you have any idea what?"

"A bit, but I told him he should tell you himself."

The two girls found Adair, the quidditch captain, in the common room, who suggested they talk in an empty study room for some privacy. When they found one, he decided the begin with pleasantries. "Congratulations on making the team."

"Thank you for selecting me."

"You flew well during tryouts, especially dodging bludgers." That, however, seem to exhaust the small talk, so there was no more avoiding the awkward subject. "Evie, you're friends with Lucas Sanstead, the Gryffindor second seven beater, right?"

"Yes..." That question came out of nowhere and she didn't know where this was going.

"And you practice quidditch together sometimes? Sometimes with Leah as well?"

"Yes?"

Adair wondered how to broach this gently. This was his sixth year at Hogwarts and first as captain. Hufflepuff captains were selected not just on skill, but also their ability to lead and pull together a team on and off the field. This was the first delicate situation he had to handle as captain, which made him a bit nervous. "Does this... Will this create a conflict of interest?"

"What, you mean if Lucas and I face off against each other, it would affect our play?" Lucas was unlikely to play in house matches unless an injury took out one of the more experienced beaters. Which was possible, but somewhat remote.

"No, not that. Well, there is that. But I'm worried Gryffindor might find out something that would give them an unfair advantage."

"What... But..." she sputtered before sorting our the jostling thoughts. "Look, Lucas isn't a spy or anything for Gryffindor, and I would never betray our house like that." Evie wasn't sure which implication hurt the most.

"No, no! Of course not. We know you better than that. But what if it happened unintentionally?"

"Like how?"

"Well, when you practice with him, do you fly chaser patterns the team uses?"

"Yeah... But they aren't ministry secrets are anything. You could find them in any playbook."

"But those were the plays the team was rehearsing especially hard last year because we were going to use them more, right?"

"Yes, but it after the first game, the whole school knew our plays." Evie decided being on the defensive would not resolve this, so she tried try a different tack. "Let's go about it this way. Leah, when we practiced with Lucas, did you learn anything about the Gryffindor team?"

"Not really."

"Right. So Lucas and I don't trade team secrets, and neither Leah nor I could figure out anything about Gryffindor from practicing with him, so I doubt he's learning anything about our team either."

"Evie, did you know that Gryffindor reservists don't attend every practice?"

"No..." Once again, wherever Adair was going with this, she was lost.

"It's because sometimes they want the whole field for their first seven. But Hufflepuff practices are always both first and second seven. Evie, you flew with us last year, and now that you're a starting player, you will know our strengths and weaknesses as well as anyone, and I'd bet you know our team a lot better than Lucas knows the Gryffindor team."

It was all perfectly true. While she tried to formulate a response, the captain continued on.

"Also, this weekend I saw you practicing with a Ravenclaw keeper."

"You mean, Ava? She's not on their team, not even as a reserve."

"But she could still find out something and pass it on."

"Not really. She doesn't seem to get along with some of the chasers on their team. Look, I think you might as well try divination than figure out a team's secrets this way. But even saying you can, for the moment, what do you want me to do?"

"Could you not practice quidditch with people outside of the house?"

"What?"

Okay, she's taking this badly, thought the captain. "Is that unreasonable?"

Evie took several seconds to calm herself and collect her thoughts before replying. "Look, Lucas and I have been friends for a long time, from before we started at Hogwarts. We were neighbors until my family moved to London a couple years ago."

"It's true," interjected Leah. "She spends almost as much time with him as she does with me."

"I'm not asking you to stop being friends, but you could do other things besides quidditch."

"I don't know... I mean, when we were younger, my brother and I would go over and play quidditch with him and his sister all the time. Quidditch isn't all that we do together, but it's important. It's what we have in common, since we both made reserve teams last year, and our shared past. To stop playing quidditch with him just seems so... drastic."

"Would you do it for the house?"

Low blow. "So you're asking me to choose between my house and my-" Whatever Evie was going to say, she bit it back, which made Leah wonder what she was originally going to say. Eventually, Evie substituted, "One of my best friends? That would be unreasonable except I still don't think practicing with Lucas hurts the team any. Anyway, Ravenclaws already attend our practices."

"But they wouldn't tell Gryffindors anything they found out."

This was getting frustrating. "Adair, there's a lot I would sacrifice for our house and the team. But please don't ask me to disrupt my relationship with Lucas just because it _might_ affect the team."

"I agree," concurred Leah.

The captain felt outnumbered. "The other thing I don't get," (Great, another thing, thought Evie) "is if you want to play more quidditch outside of team practice, why don't you play with your teammates?"

"I don't know... Lucas and I play quidditch together because it's what we do. Leah here joins us sometimes... If you want, I can ask if any other Hufflepuffs want to join us?"

Adair thought for a moment of having half his team play under the eye of a Gryffindor beater and a Ravenclaw keeper. "What I meant was making these outside practices just Hufflepuff. It would make the team stronger."

"But it would cut out Lucas."

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"Then I would rather not."

"I know you'd rather not, but would you?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Okay." Just that one word, softly spoken, intimated all of the captain's disappointment. "Well, I hope it's not an issue like you say it is." He signaled that was all he had to say by starting for the door.

"Adair... Will this affect my position on the team?"

"I don't know. I'm breaking with tradition by making you starting chaser. And I realize now how important Lucas' friendship is to you, and I would be conflicted too if I was in your position. However, as captain, while I look after all of you as individuals, I also have to think what's best for the whole team."

The door closed and the two girls were left alone in the silent study room. When Evie didn't move for a while, Leah walked over and held her in a hug.

"It's not fair." Just a few minutes ago, Evie was celebrating making starting chaser, and now that might be taken away unless she stopped practicing with Lucas. Which, admittedly, was not the end of the world, but seemed a bit extreme.

Leah just hugged her tighter. "Maybe Adair will decide it's not such a big problem after all."

"He seemed to think it was a big deal. He didn't buy anything we said."

"Well, no sense worrying until he's made up his mind."

"I guess you're right."

"Darn right I am." Leah finally let go. "Now tell me what's happened between you and Lucas."

Evie could feel her cheeks blush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come off it, Evie. I know you better than anyone."

"It's nothing, really. You know how I told you I thought he was watching me rather than the ball during quidditch practice? We were supposed to study in the library today, but I caught him looking my way a couple times."

"Oh!"

"... And he caught me looking too."

"Ohh!" Leah was practically leering. "Did he say anything?"

"No... It's still a bit awkward."

"Some Gryffindor if he doesn't have the courage to ask a girl out."

"It's not like that. We've known each other forever. I remember when were six and he stole my chocolate cake and his sister tried to get it back and his mother scolded them for fighting and mashing cake into the carpet and my father said it was easy to clean carpets with magic and Lucas' mother gave me his dessert that night."

"Okay, so you have a history."

"It's just a little weird to think of him that way after all this time, and I'm sure he's the same."

"Uh huh. He knows other guys have asked you out, right?"

"I may have mentioned it..."

"Honestly, what is that boy thinking?"

AN: After two scenes that pass the Bechdel Test, this one failed. Can you tell I read a lot of TVTropes?

Reviews welcome. How do you think Evie is developing?


	9. Chapter 9

"I've been thinking," began Lucas.

"That's a good habit in a student." Professor Longbottom smiled at his old joke while repotting some bubotubers without squeezing them. "Thinking about what?"

"You remember the war?"

"Of course." There had been some nights his dreams would not let him forget the gaping maw of Nagini, though they were becoming less frequent.

"If it had been a fairy tale or legend, that would have been the great battle between Good and Evil where Good wins and everyone lives happily ever after."

Neville stood up and stretched his back after being hunched over so long, his hair brushing against lowest branches dangling above him. Lucas was visiting Professor Longbottom in the northern greenhouse, which got less direct sun since it stood in the castle's shadow most of the day. Most professors stayed in their office when not in class or patrolling the grounds, but Neville's duties required him to keep the potions laboratory and infirmary fully stocked, so he spent most of his time among the many herbs, shrubs, and weeds in his care. Not that he minded in the least.

The greenhouses were his playground. Professor Sprout had officially retired but agreed to remain at the castle for one more term to see that her beloved gardens and Hufflepuff House were in good hands. Once satisfied that Neville had lost none of his knack with flora, she kept out of his hair and left him to it.

"Good did win, triumphantly at that. Voldemort was vanquished, for good this time, and his followers locked away. And these past years have been happy, with weddings and children and exciting discoveries. Might not be ever after though."

"I don't think so either."

Something told Neville that this was not a casual schoolboy chat. "Why do you say that, Lucas?"

"I think the school is becoming increasingly divided."

Neville put down his trowel and gave Lucas his full attention. "How do you mean?"

"Well, the houses don't get along. Few students mix with people outside their house. And last year several students had to stay overnight in the infirmary because of a fight."

"Headmistress McGonagall mentioned it when I arrived. It happened around the time of the final quidditch house cup matches?"

"Yes."

"Some inter-house rivalry is expected, even healthy. Though Professor McGonagall asked me to intercede if it crosses that line again."

"But it goes beyond quidditch. For instance, Ravenclaws have taken over the Charms Club."

"There's still a Charms Club after Professor Flitwick retired?"

"Yes. It's student run, though Professor Goshawk looks in sometimes."

"And how do you mean, 'Ravenclaws have taken over?'"

"All of the officers are Ravenclaws. Most of the members, at least the members who are left, are Ravenclaws. Evie and I were members our first year, but we didn't feel welcome and eventually quit when quidditch took up more time. It's like knowledge is the only thing that matters to Ravenclaws."

"That sounds like a Ravenclaw to me."

"Except in the Charms Club, it's the only scorecard. Like if you aren't that good at Charms, you are alienated or pushed to the sidelines."

"I'll talk to Professor Goshawk about it. The Charm Club is supposed to be for any student who wants to learn more about Charms."

"Some students have complained to her already, but she said she couldn't do anything since there was no case of discrimination and the club does fulfill its mission of teaching Charms. Almost all of the members who stay do well on their Charms O.W.L. and N.E.W.T."

Neville listened carefully to Lucas' testimony. It didn't sound like sour grapes for getting pushed out of Charms Club. "Then why did you and the other students leave?"

"It's hard to describe. Yes, we could have stayed and learned more about Charms. The officers didn't stop us from attending or participating. But if you didn't want to become a Charms master by practicing every day, then you weren't part of the in-crowd and didn't feel welcome. The club isn't run for casual members. I think most of us left because we'd rather spend our free time with people who, you know, liked us."

...

"When I attended Hogwarts, most of my friends were Gryffindors. It's only natural since you live and go to class with your house."

"But you got along with people from other houses."

"Of course," said Neville, remembering his time in Dumbledore's Army, though Malfoy and his cronies sprung to mind. "Well, not so much with some Slytherins."

Lucas recalled Finley's family trouble. If he was to be believed, their only sin was being sorted into Slytherin. "That's another thing. ...

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><p>AN: Sorry, another scene I didn't complete before I decided to start the rewrite. Also, that's as far as I got before the rewrite.<p>

Reviews welcome. What do you think of Lucas and his quest?


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